The Academy
by Only Girl Leaving Fireworks
Summary: Chelsea McCarthy loves her life by the beach on the supposed awful parts in California. But when tragedy strikes, a social worker sends her to live with a long-lost uncle, a dean of a prestigious boarding school. Along the way, Chelsea learns through amazing people and adventures that sometimes good things fall apart so better things can fall together [K,J,C,L x (4)OC]. 'M' Future
1. Beauty and the Beach

**Chapter One: Beauty and the Beach.**

Chelsea McCarthy kicked her legs, propelling herself to the ocean surface with a final burst of adrenaline even as her lungs screamed for air. Breaking through the waves, she looked around, focusing on the tiny stretch of California coastline that she called home for the last fifteen and a half years. Harborside beach was still packed at 5 pm. She could see couples lounging on beach blankets while their kids dug in the sand or attempted to body board, but beyond the roped off swim area, Chelsea was flying solo. She had always preferred it that way. But that was before she'd met James Maslow. As if on cue, he paddled his surfboard towards her.

"Go ahead and gloat, Chels," James said, not sounding the least bit out of breath, even though he had just paddled over the breaking waves. He pushed a beat up surfboard toward her. His favorite black wet suit, the one with the blue waves on the chest, looked barely wet even though they'd both been in the water for almost an hour.

Chelsea, or Chels, as James called her (only her grandmother called her Melissa, her mother's name, when she called her anything at all), rested her arms on the bobbing board. She couldn't help but smirk at James. "I didn't say anything".

"You didn't have to," James grumbled even though his hazel eyes were playful. Salt water dripped from his brown, somewhat shaggy, hair, and he wiped it off his face. "You win, Chels. I'm man enough to admit you can swim faster than I can paddle out here, _but,_" he added before she could gloat, "let's not forget that I was carting _two _boards, and pelicans were nose diving at my head."

Chelsea tapped her chipped purple nails lightly on the board, the bath-like water lapping at her upper back, which was the only part of her torso not covered by the unflattering blue speedo she wore for her job as a lifeguard.

After four, she was off-duty, but unlike some of the other guards that she worked with, she didn't waste time changing into her bathing suit before going in for a dip. Why waste time? When she wasn't working, there was no place she'd rather be than the ocean. James was the first guy she'd met that seemed to feel the same way. They'd only been friends since mid-July, but they hung out practically every day since, and this was the best time to do it. By 5pm, the soupy California heat started to subside and there was a light breeze. The sun was still bright, but low enough that they didn't need sunscreen and the water wasn't overly crowded with kids goofing around or adults twice her size who could barely swim. 5pm was 'me' time and when me time included James, it was that much better.

"It only took you half of July and all of August to realize I pretty much know everything there is to know about being in the water," Chelsea teased, staring at his woven rope necklace that had the small shark tooth dangling from it. "_You _surfers are all alike. Cocky".

"Hey," James argued even as he smiled an extra adorable grin. "It's not cocky; it's called confident. There's a difference. _You _lifeguards seem to forget that".

Chelsea coyly pushed her light brown hair out of her blue-green eyes. "It's kinda hard not to when we're pulling you guys out of the rip current at least once a day".

James gave her a sharp look. "I told you a million times, I was fine".

"You didn't look fine," Chelsea reminded him, wrinkling her freckled nose at the memory. "You were going-"

"Against the current instead of with it," James interrupted, and shook his head, the dimple in his left cheek beginning to form. "I'm never gonna live that down, am I?"

"Nope," Chelsea said, feeling at ease like she always did around him. They were just friends- friends in a teasing, sort of flirty way- but for some reason it didn't matter. Well, it mattered a little, but they had such a good time together she almost forgot he wasn't her boyfriend. She knew practically everything there was to know about him, from how much he loved to surf to his favorite iPod playlist. They liked the same bands, preferred water over dry land, and would take a cheeseburger over a slice of pizza any day. Maybe that was why she was beginning to dread the thought of school starting in a few days. When would she see James then? They hung out only at the beach. She wasn't even sure where he lived. Whenever she asked, his cryptic answer was always "Nearby."

James looked at the shore as he bobbed up and down on his board, and Chelsea tried not to ogle his toned arms. "So, ready to try surfing again? Maybe you can actually stay on the board today".

Chelsea pulled herself up on her board and floated next to him, their tan knees touching. James', she noticed, were beaten up and bruised from crash landings. "Do we have to keep doing this?" she groaned. "Why do I need to know how to surf?"

"I told you- so you can do it with me. Let's try this again, okay?" James instructed, his square jawline set. "I'll make you a deal. If you can manage to get up this time, I'll buy at Scoops".

Chelsea grinned. "You're on, surfer boy".

She reached down and attached her board's leg strap to her ankle. She'd learned her lesson about being untethered last week when she had to swim after a runaway board. Then she paddled after James, trying to remember his instructions- when to stand up, how to lean left or right into the wave for balance, how to hold her legs. James had given her this board after he bought one that had a pirate ship on it. The gift had come with one condition- that Chelsea had to keep both boards in the lifeguard hut for him. James said his board didn't fit in the back of his Jeep. He had just turned sixteen and his parents had bought him the truck for his birthday, which lead Chelsea to assume that James didn't live that close to Harborside, because she lived there and no kid she knew owned a car, let alone a new one.

Chelsea looked for the balance point James had marked with wax and tried not to 'cork' the board, as he'd called it. Something about too much weight in the back. She watched James almost fifteen feet ahead of her- the proper safety distance- and saw him effortlessly stand up on the board as a wave began to crest. She'd remembered what he'd said as she got closer to the waves and pushed up on the board, keeping her legs on the stringer and gripping the board with her feet. She was supposed to look like a sumo wrestler, and it was working. She was up! Was James seeing this? Even her feet were in the right positions! Then two seconds later, she fell and cursed herself for looking down, which was what James told her _not _to do. The surf was swirling around her, and as she swam to the surface, her board whacked her in the head. She dragged her board behind her as she hit the beach a few minutes later with a scowl on her face.

James watched her as he stood next to two kids playing in the sand with plastic army men. His board was staked next to him, giving him the appearance of a guy who had just won a Teen Choice Award surfboard. James could probably win, for looks alone, if he lived in LA and was discovered by a film agent. Taylor Lautner's mug had nothing on James Maslow's.

"I can't believe you looked down, Chels! It was going so well!" James said, as if she needed reminding.

Chelsea rubbed her head. "I know, I know, and I'm going to pay for it with a big, fat headache."

James put his arm around her, smelling like a mix of coconut and saltwater. His black wet suit hugged his taut stomach and Chelsea felt her breath get stuck in her throat. "You'll get it eventually, lifeguard. Or maybe not." He rubbed her head like she was his kid brother. "Tell you what: I'll buy at Scoops even though you screwed up." She started to protest. "You save that paltry salary of yours."

Fifteen minutes later, after they both toweled off and Chelsea threw on frayed jean shorts and a tank top over her suit, they flip-flopped across the crowded board walk toward Scoops, where her friend Lexie Bennett worked. Chelsea knew it sounded silly to have such a deep affection for a place, but almost everything she loved about Harborside was on these planks. She'd learned how to play _Dance Dance Revolution _at the arcade, scored her first hole in one with her mom at the Mermaid Putt-Putt, made pizza with Grams at Harbor's Finest, held her first job at Scoops, and had her first kiss on the amusement park roller coaster. But what she still loved best about Harborside Pier was the community center. Sandwiched between the boardwalk and the main drag, the community center had been her family ever since her mom died. And Chelsea had very litter family to speak of.

"Look who's here! The beach bum and the lifeguard! " Lexie yelled as a tiny bell on the door announced James and Chelsea's arrival at the homemade-ice-cream parlor. Lexie's loud voice startled some of the customers eating at the tiny tables. Chelsea and James walked up to the long counter, where Lexie was making an ice-cream sundae. "So what are you guys having?" Lexie asked. She slid the sundae over to the startled customer and leaned toward Chelsea, her brown bangs falling in her eyes, not being able to be held up in her somewhat messy ponytail.

"Um, hello?" said cool voice. "I believe we were next."

Chelsea noticed a well-dressed couple in their twenties at the other end of the counter. The guy nudged the girl, who gave him a sour face. "What? You wanted homemade ice cream, right?" she whispered. "And I want to leave this boardwalk before some pickpocket dips into my Tory Burch bag."

The guy rolled his eyes. "Jessica, you're overreacting."

"You heard what the taxi driver said," she said in hushed tones. "I know you like to 'keep it real,' but I'm not hanging out all night on some dodgy boardwalk when our hotel has a private beach."

Harborside Pier may have been as popular as it ever was, but it was dogged that summer with stories about teen gangs and how shady the area had become. One of the pier shops had been broken into and robbed, and a knife fight earlier this summer between locals and gang members had turned ugly. No one Chelsea knew had been involved. Her friends had hung out under the boardwalk at night, but they weren't thieves or hoodlums. There just weren't a lot of places for them to hang. Chelsea knew she didn't live in Beverly Hills, but she also knew Harborside wasn't unsafe if you knew how to navigate it. She wished she had the nerve to tell that costumer that.

"Lexie, you should help them first," Chelsea said instead. "They were waiting."

Lexie rolled her eyes and pulled at her stained white Scoops tee. "Whatever." Like most of Chelsea's friends, Lexie didn't mask her feelings, even if they stung. "What do you want?"

James glanced at his diver's watch. "I've gotta check in at home. Order for me?" he asked Chelsea, then winked. "She'll give you extra toppings." He pulled his phone out of his orange backpack as Chelsea scanned the day's ice-cream flavor chart.

When Lexie was done serving Miss Uptight her kid-size fat free vanilla whip cone, she planted herself in front of Chelsea and grinned slyly. "So?" she said meaningfully.

"So what?" Chelsea repeated slowly.

"So have you told Mr. Hot Surfer Dude that you want to be the topping on his soft-serve cone yet?" Lexie asked.

Chelsea felt her face flush. What if James has heard Lexie say that? She turned around slowly and to her relief saw James's butt pressing against the glass window as she leaned into it while talking on the phone outside. "Lexie, geez!" Chelsea said, her color returning to normal. "I told you a million times. We're just friends."

Lexie gave her a knowing look. "You don't act like just friends".

Chelsea looked down at the Cookies-and-Cream tub. If she looked at Lexie, her eyes might give something away. "Well, we are, so would you lay off? Besides, I don't have time for a boyfriend."

"That's true," Lexie said, walking away to put the ice cream scoopers in the tiny kitchen sink. "I don't even know how you time to sleep between work, swim practice, taking care of Grams, food shopping…"

Chelsea shrugged and pushed her still-damp hair behind her ears. "It's no big deal."

"It's a huge deal," Lexie disagreed, and then smiled slowly. "Which is why I think you need a little fun." Lexie looked at James's butt and sighed. "And Mr. Hot Surfer Dude definitely looks like fun".

"_Lexie_," Chelsea said, starting to feel both annoyed and uncomfortable. "Drop it."

Lexie rolled her eyes again. "Fine. You should snap that boy up, though. If you don't, trust me, someone else will."

The bell hanging on the door jingled, and James walked back in, his flip flops making scuffling sounds against the sandy floor. "Did you decide what you want yet?"

"Oh, she knows exactly what she wants," Lexie replied, looking intently at Chelsea. "She just hasn't figured out how to order it."

"A scoop of Oreo, a scoop of Marshmallow Supreme, and one of Butter Toffee," Chelsea said quickly, "with gummy bears." James looked amused. "I'm a growing girl."

"No complaints here," he said. "I like a girl who eats."

Chelsea tried to think of the appropriate comeback, but before she could, she felt her cell phone vibrate in her pocket. She didn't recognize the number but she picked it up anyway. "Hello?" She immediately regretted her decision. "No. I'm at the beach." Pause. "Nope, I have to stop at the community center first. I forgot my swim meet registration forms." Her smile slowly faded, and the room began to spin around her. "Yeah, I can be there at six thirty. Bye." She snapped the phone shut, her eyes blinking rapidly, and grabbed the counter to steady herself. She couldn't believe this was happening. "I'm going to have to take you up on that ice cream offer tomorrow," she said quietly, no looking at James.

"Everything okay?" he asked, his brow wrinkling with worry.

"Did Grams lock herself out of the house again?" Lexie asked as she finished Chelsea's order and slid it down to her.

Chelsea pushed it back. "No, I just have to get home." She avoided their stares.

"Let me drive you," James suggested.

Great. For the first time James offered to drive Chelsea home, she would have to say no. "I've gotta go to the center first," Chelsea explained, looking up at him. He had to be at least six foot two. "Besides, I'm only a few blocks from there. You stay and hang out. I'll see you tomorrow."

James grinned. "Okay, because you, my friend, seriously need some more surf lessons."

Chelsea forced herself to groan playfully. "Don't I know it? See you Lexie," she managed with a smile, even though she felt like the floor was going to fall out from under her.

Leaving Scoops, Chelsea unlocked her bike from the rack and raced down the boardwalk bike path, felling the wind whip her hair, and her face as if she were at the top of the Ferris wheel. Then she slowed down her pedaling and reminded herself of the truth: She wasn't on the Ferris wheel. She would soon be on her way home where her social worker, Summer Hayes, would be waiting for her.

The questions ran through Chelsea's head almost too fast for her to keep up. Was Summer there to push foster care again? Summer and Grams had been discussing the idea ever since Grams' health had starting going downhill since last year, but Chelsea was still vehemently against it. When Grams remembered things (which felt like forever ago now), she had said another option was to find a distant relative to take care of Chelsea, but Chelsea had hated that idea, too. She had lived with her grandmother ever since her mom brought her home form the hospital when she was a baby. Chelsea had never met her dad. Her mom hadn't even told anyone who the guy was. So it was Grams that became Chelsea's legal guardian when her mom died in a car crash a few years ago. Now that Grams was sick, it was Chelsea's turn to return to favor. Grams was the only family she had left, and she wasn't going to let the state of California take that away from her.

* * *

**Just a quick author's note here. This story features all the guys and their respective OC's. They're not coming in all at once but I assure you, they're coming. Anyways, thank you so much for reading my story! I hope you enjoyed it :) Xoxo -AH**

**{Copyright: I do not own anything in this story but the ideas in my head}**


	2. Thanks for the Memories

**Chapter Two: Thanks for the Memories**

Chelsea pressed hard on her bike brakes, the tires squeaking loudly to a halt in front of Chicken, Ribs, and More. She let the familiar smell of barbeque sauce and crisp sweet potato fries wash over her as the reasons behind Summer's house call began to overwhelm her. Chelsea's thoughts were darker than she would have liked, and she shut her eyes to block out the scenarios. Without thinking, her feet went back onto the bike pedals, and within minutes she was in front of the Harborside Community Center.

HCC wasn't much to look at. Weeds poked up around the cracked, again stucco, and the windows had a permanent film on them after years of neglect. As rundown and forgotten as it looked on the outside, though, once Chelsea walked through the glass doors, the building had a different story to tell. The community center was bustling, loud, and as cheerful as the cinder-block walls that had been painted in vibrant yellow-and-blue beach scenes. Hanging from corkboard strips were bright flyers and banners screaming things in large print like upcoming samba lessons, teen bake sales, Xbox Kinect tournaments, and directions to the next swim meet. Summer camp was winding down for the day just as some of the adult evening classes were about to begin, and the halls we a mix of young and old voices. Chelsea knew most of them and said hello or waved as she walked down the hallway towards the pool.

Kylie Brooks wrapped her tiny wet arms around Chelsea's waist as Chelsea passed her. "Are you done saving lives, Chelsea?" Kylie wanted to know.

Chelsea patted the top of her curly hair. "For today." She gave her a mock stern look. "What about you? Have you been practicing your lifeguard training today, too?"

Kylie nodded. "Just like you showed me at swim class this morning." She mimicked a frog, showing Chelsea her breast-stroke. It seemed to be the easiest for Kylie to master so they'd concentrate on that one first.

"Perfect," Chelsea said with a smile, and then began swinging her arms in a circular motion forward. "Tomorrow we'll work on this one, okay?"

"I can't do that one." Kylie's face scrunched up in frustration. "My arms don't go fast enough."

"What do I always tell you?" Chelsea asked, and then the two of them said together: "No guts, no glory." She nudged Kylie with her elbow, and the six-year-old smiled. "I'll see you at nine am."

"Thanks!" Kylie pulled her falling towel tighter around her as she ran down the hallway.

"No running in flip-flops!" Chelsea called after her with a smile, then turned and paused as she always did outside the pool doorway and looked at the glass case if swim team trophies and pictures. Her fingers grazed the glass in front of the swim team picture of 1988. Her mom's young face smiled back at her. She was taller and skinnier than Chelsea was at the same age, but Coach Morgan said they had the same spark and determination.

"_I can't do it," Chelsea remembered saying to her mom like it was yesterday. She was five. They were in the center's pool, and she was clinging onto her mom's waist like it was a life preserver. "I won't be able to breathe!"_

"_Chelsea, relax," her mother said calmly. She set Chelsea on the side of the pool. "No one can breathe underwater unless they have an oxygen tank or a snorkel tube. Well" -she scratched her chin- "except for the fish and the baby belugas."_

_Belugas were Chelsea's favorite sea creature. She and her mom loved the Raffi song about the little whale. It was Chelsea's goal in life to swim with one, and that would never happen if she never learned how to swim._

"_But you go underwater and you do like, a zillion laps!"_

_Her mom nodded. "Yep but I still can't breathe underwater."_

"_How do you do it?" Chelsea folded her wet arms across her chest to keep from shivering. The water was warm, but the air felt cold. She watched other kids happily jumping in around her. They looked like they were having so much fun._

_Her mother looked at her seriously. "I do what I've been telling you to do, Chelsea. I breathe out." She demonstrated. "I take deep breaths. We start by blowing bubbles, remember?"_

_Something inside of Chelsea clicked. In her hysteria of having her face underwater, she always seemed to forget the bubbles part. _

_Her mom rubbed her back. "No guts, no glory, kiddo. Want to give it another shot?"_

_Chelsea noticed the swim team sign-up sheet for older girls on the far wall. She had always wanted to be on the team, like her mom had been. There was only one way that was going to happen. She slipped out of her mom's grasp and back into the pool. "No guts, no glory," she repeated, and then submerged herself fully, bubbles escaping from her nose._

"Chelsea! You missed me that much already?" Coach Morgan pulled Chelsea back from her memories. She saw he had on his usual attire: swims shorts and a Harborside Community Center tee. Coach always said you know you have a good job when you get to wear shorts and swimwear to work every day. He opened the heavy pool doors and let Chelsea enter first. "Are you doing another workout? You were already here this morning!" Kids' voices bounced off the cavernous celling as Chelsea followed Coach into the pool area, which smelled overwhelmingly of chlorine. She watched the senior citizens glide slowly by in the lap lanes, stopping every once in a while it give an annoyed glare to the kids splashing alongside them.

"I forgot to get my permission slip for the next meet," Chelsea spoke loudly to be heard over the kids. "I wanted Grams to sign it tonight." _Liar! _A little voice in her head yelled. Grams hadn't been able to hold a pen for months. Chelsea had become a pro at forging her signature on everything from permission slips and report cards to Grams' Social Security checks (how else would they buy groceries?).

Coach Morgan looked at her kindly. "Chelsea, I know you sign them yourself."

So she hadn't been fooling him at all. How many other people knew about her forgeries?

He patted her shoulder. "It's fine. I signed it. Your social worker said it was okay. You can still go to meets."

Chelsea nodded, trying not to show her embarrassment. "Thanks, Coach."

"No problem," he said, and they both felt water pelt their legs. "Hey! Let's keep the water _in _the pool, not _out_," Coach Morgan turned around and barked to the increasingly rowdy kids in the pool. They stopped splashing immediately. Coach Morgan's bark was much worse than his bite. He turned back to Chelsea. "So how is Grams doing, anyway?"

"Great," Chelsea lied again. It was easier this way. Otherwise she got those pitying, worried glances, and worried glances led to Summer Hayes. Chelsea knew everyone meant well- Harborside Community Center and her neighbors had been looking out for her for years. They knew her family, they knew her mom, and one thing they'd never do is let Chelsea feel alone.

Coach Morgan didn't look convinced, but he didn't say otherwise. "I was going to give you this tomorrow," he said, and led the way to his office. She stood in the doorway and watched as he opened a small refrigerator and took out an aluminum tray. "Grace made lasagna for you and Grams. Oh, and Ricky from Harbor's Finest said to tell you he's delivering spaghetti, meatballs, and pizza on Friday."`1

"Thanks," Chelsea said gratefully, and grinned. "Although, you know that if you keep carbo-loading me and Grams like this, I'll sink to the bottom of the pool at our next meet."

He chuckled. "I'm not worried. You move and swim too much to ever become and anchor." There was a knock on the door, and they both looked up.

An older woman, dripping wet, glared at them. "Could you get those children to stop swinging from the ropes of the lap lane?" Coach and Chelsea looked at each other.

"I'll let you go," Chelsea said, suppressing a grin.

As Chelsea left the pool, her eyes darted to the clock on the wall and she frowned. It was 6:30 pm. She should have been home by now, which was her first problem. Her second was still Summer Hayes. Her social worker didn't make social calls, which meant if she was coming by the house to see Chelsea, the news couldn't be good.


	3. A Change Is Gonna Come

**A Change Is Gonna Come**

When Grams had a good memory day- as opposed to a "Who are you? I don't have a granddaughter!" day- she liked to talk about Harborside, the early years. Grams' version of Harborside in the year Chelsea was born sounded like it was plucked from a Hallmark movie (considering Grams' memory these days, she might have confused the two): neighbors bringing neighbors homemade apple pie, block parties, softball teams for grown men, and streets so safe no one locked their doors. Harborside today was very different. The cereal factory shut down ten years ago, tanking the real estate market and causing foreclosure signs to pop up like weeds, and Harborside suffered a quick but brutal downward spiral.

This was the Harborside Chelsea knew well, and while she was used to it, she was still smart about how she navigated her hometown. Take her bike ride home, for example. Leaving the community center, Chelsea knew that if she cut through sketchy Shore Park, she'd be home in seven minutes. But she also knew that biking through the park was asking for trouble. Besides, the town padlocked it shut at six thirty. Option B was to take Second Avenue. The route was longer and safer, even with the guys hanging out in front of the convenience stores, cash-checking shops, bars, and small fruit stands who leered at her when she rode past. _Option B it is_, Chelsea thought. She put her right foot back on the pedal and pushed forward, making sure she could pedal as slow as she could without falling off.

Before long Chelsea was heading towards Hancock Street and then making a right turn onto her block. She wove around a few broken beer bottles and waved to the five-year-old McGraw twins, who were playing in their overgrown front yard. She avoided eye contact when she passed a group of boys that looked like they had nothing to do. Chelsea could see Summer's light pink Volkswagen beetle parked in front of her house. She pushed open the broken front gate and wheeled her bike around back to lock it in the shed, trying to see 22 Hancock the way Summer probably did. The lawn needed a good- okay, major- mow. There was graffiti on the fence and a crack in the bathroom window on the second floor, most likely made by a BB gun. (A group of kids had been targeting windows and parked cars all summer like they were hunting deer). Chelsea took the porch steps two at a time, making sure to miss the one that was broken in half, and walked slowly to the front door. Taking a deep breath, she put her key in the lock and walked inside.

"I'm home!" She announced with as much fake enthusiasm as she could muster. Chelsea had learned long ago how to play things with her social worker: Think of Summer like a friend, even if she wasn't one. The more upbeat Chelsea made life sound, the quicker Summer got off her case.

Summer was sitting at the cherry wood dining table, which had been in the McCarthy family for more than a hundred years. From the looks of it, the floral wallpaper had been around just as long. The only thing that didn't need replacing was the hardwood floor. Whenever Grams had people over- or, at least, when she used to have people over- someone would inevitably comment on how beautiful the floor was. Grams would smile proudly and say something like "Us oldies hold up nicely. No one is trading me or this floor in anytime soon." It was hard to believe the frail woman staring out the dining room window was the same who'd raised her only grandchild by herself when her own daughter and husband died within a year of each other. Chelsea was around ten at the time.

Chelsea planted a kiss on her grandmother's head. "Hey, Grams, how was your day?" Her thinning hair was combed back so far it made her forehead look huge, and her blue eyes were like cloudy marbles. Her grandmother didn't respond. She stared out the window like she hadn't heard her.

Chelsea looked at Summer and smiled forcefully. "Hi, Summer," She said with added enthusiasm. Summer had been her social worker for the last year. Of all the social workers she'd had since they started coming about three years ago, when Gram's decline started, Summer was Chelsea's favorite. _If _you could call any social worker who came to check out your living conditions a favorite.

Summer glanced at her wrist, sliding back the sleeve of her Lilly Pulitzer top to look at her Timex. Her layered sleek blonde hair came down to about her shoulders, her bangs just above her eyebrows. "I was starting to get worried, Chelsea," Summer said by way of greeting. "We agreed to meet at six thirty."

Chelsea made an apologetic face. "I'm sorry. I lost track of time talking to Coach Morgan." She looked at her grandmother, who had barely moved her fingers since Chelsea walked in. "He says hi, Grams. He sent lasagna for dinner. His wife made it." Chelsea nodded to Summer and placed the tray on the dining room table. "People send us meals at least three times a week. Our friends are so generous."

Summer's dark green eyes bore into Chelsea's skull. "That they are." She tapped her pen.

Chelsea noticed the move right away. Summer was nervous. Chelsea could read people well, and she had spent enough time with Summer to know what kind of a mood she was in. Tonight, she was uncomfortable, and that made Chelsea uncomfortable so she just kept on talking. "Yeah, it is nice, isn't it? That's what I love about Harborside. We take care of each other. Coach Morgan gives me and Grams these incredible meals, and I'm teaching swim lessons for free at the community center." Chelsea pointed to a gold medal hanging on the mirror in the dining room. "First place in the last meet. Grams was cheering me on, right, Grams?" _Cheering _was a stretch, but Grams was there. Their neighbor brought her. His daughter was on the swim team, too.

Summer's face was unreadable as she said, "You told me Chelsea. I'm proud of you."

"Thanks!" Chelsea squeaked. _Ugh_. She wasn't sure how much longer she could keep up the cheerleader act. It was giving her a headache. "It's been a great season for us this summer. So has work. Lifeguarding is amazing. And I'm making eight dollars an hour. I'm one of the youngest lifeguards they've ever had, but Hayden says he hired me because I'm so determined and focused." God, did she really just pat herself on the back?

"Chelsea," Summer interrupted, "you can drop the cheerleader routine. It's not you."

Chelsea fiddled with the tiny silver band she wore on her middle finger. "I know." She sighed. "I thought it might lighten the mood."

Summer smiled. "Thanks for trying." She pulled out a heavy dining room chair next to her. "Why don't you sit down so we can talk?"

Chelsea grabbed the back of Grams chair and hung on. "I think I'd rather stand."

"You might want to sit," Summer said gently.

"Listen, if this is about Grams's care, she's doing amazing on this new medicine that Dr. Gray gave her. He said her hip looks stronger than ever and she might not need a second replacement. She may even be able to lose the cane"

"That's great, but-" Summer looked at the cuckoo clock ticking on the wall.

The silence in the room was so complete, the pendulum sounded like a marching band. Chelsea quickly moved to the doorway between the dining room and the kitchen. She pointed desperately to the fridge, where a dry-erase board was marked with different colors. "I charted all her pills, and they're labeled in containers on the counter. Most days her nurse is her and helps her take them, but sometimes her friend Ida stops by. We put the paperwork into Medicare to get her a full-time aide and-"

"She's not getting a full-time aide, Chelsea," Summer said, cutting her off. "I spoke to Medicare, and they denied the claim. They feel she'd be better suited for a nursing home that has physical therapy on-site." She kept talking to keep Chelsea from interrupting. "We knew this day was coming. Your grandmother and I had been preparing for this. You've been doing a great job taking care of things, but that's not your job. Your job is to be a kid."

"I'm not a kid," Chelsea said sharply. The time to act sweet was over. "I'm fifteen."

"You're still a minor, and someone should be taking care of you, not the other way around." Summer stared sadly at Chelsea. "Your grandmother and I have had a solution in place for months, but we've been waiting for the details to be finalized. I think once you've had time to process what I'm going to tell you, you'll be very happy, Chelsea."

"What do you mean, you and my grandmother?" Chelsea glanced in Grams's direction. "She doesn't know what day it is. How can she make a decision about her care or mine?"

"Last winter, she called me and said she had found some papers about your family history," Summer explained. "She was very lucid. She said she'd found an uncle of yours on her side who has a wife and three kids and lives only twenty minutes away. She was very excited."

Chelsea shifted back and forth. Her flip-flops suddenly felt very heavy. "Grams called you?" Why would Grams tell Summer about an uncle that Grams never knew before she told her own granddaughter? Grams and Chelsea confided in each other about everything. At least, they used to.

"She was insistent that I call your uncle," Summer explained. She had already spoken to him herself and they met, and"- Summer's pen started tapping crazily- "he wants you to live with them." Chelsea's jaw dropped. "Your grandmother wanted you to go. She drew up papers for the transfer of guardianship so that when this day came, we'd be ready."

The cuckoo bird popped out of the clock with a loud chirp, startling them both as the clock chimed seven. The bird made seven chirps as Summer and Chelsea stared intently at each other.

Chelsea shook her head, feeling a lot like that bird- trapped. "No," she said, wondering if she heard Summer wrong and hoping that she had. "Grams wouldn't do that."

"She wanted you well taken care of, Chelsea." Summer stood up. "She knew she wasn't up to the task anymore, and she wanted to put things in order."

"_No_," Chelsea said more urgently, and took two steps back, stumbling slightly. Summer reached out to steady her, but Chelsea pushed her away and glanced at Grams. Her grandmother barely flinched. "We're a team. She always said that. I'm not leaving her just because she's having a little setback."

"This isn't a setback, Chelsea" Summer said bluntly. "The woman you know is gone. She saw that coming and she found a way for you to avoid foster care. This is what she wanted."

Chelsea felt her breathing become rapid. She looked around wildly, wondering what she should do. She wanted to run- far. But where was she going to go?

"Your uncle's name is Jake Schmidt," Summer told her, as if the name should have some sort of meaning. It didn't. "He's the dean of Emerald Cove Academy. You're going to attend the school and get opportunities that you've never had. Most people would kill for a chance like this."

Chelsea stared at the floor. It felt like it was moving. "I'm happy here."

"You'll still be able to see Grams," Summer continued like she didn't hear her. "Your uncle made sure Grams will have the best care at the nursing home, and on Fridays they even…"

Chelsea felt a ringing in her ears, and Summer's voice began drifting away. The room felt like it was closing in on her. She ran to her grandmother and shook her shoulders. "Grams! Say something! Tell Summer not to do this."

Her grandmother's blue eyes lit up with recognition, and Chelsea felt a sense of relief. Grams could fix things before they spun out of control. She'd kept them together this long. But Chelsea's momentary relief vanished when she started talking.

"Melissa, when did you get here?" Grams asked. "I was hoping you'd stop by before you went to New York." She wagged a finger at Chelsea. "I still don't think you should be going. That town is trouble, I'm telling you."

Chelsea froze. She could feel Summer's eyes on her. Melissa was Chelsea's mom. "Grams, it's me. Your granddaughter, Chelsea."

Grams obviously didn't hear her. "Melissa, it's drafty in here. Can you go get my shawl?"

Grams's shawl was already around her shoulders. "Okay, Grams," Chelsea said, and pretended to put the shawl on her. She blinked rapidly to hold back tears. She was not going to let Summer see her cry.

"Chelsea, she knew what was happening to her," Summer said softly. "She was so happy when she found family for you. She needed to make sure you had what you needed in life."

"I need her," Chelsea said desperately, pleading with Summer now. "If you just give us some time, I'm sure this new medicine will kick in and Grams will be back to her old self and…"

The doorbell rang. Summer didn't flinch but Chelsea did. She looked out the dining room window and saw a white van that had _Costal Assisted Living Center _on it. A man and a woman with ID tags around their necks walked up the path. Chelsea's heart started to beat rapidly again.

"The nursing home is here to help gather some of your grandmother's things for the move," Summer said quietly. "The rest you can sort through before the house is sold, and the lawyer your grandmother hired will help with the house and the furnishings and…"

"Wait, this is happening tonight?" Chelsea felt as if a boa constrictor had wrapped itself around her heart. The tears started to come even though she willed them not to.

"They'll take Grams and settle her in, and I'll go with you to your uncle's," Summer explained. "You have half an hour to pack, and anything else you need, I'll send later."

Chelsea lived here her whole life and she had half an hour to put her world in a duffel bag and say good-bye? _No. This was wrong! _The room felt like it was spinning. Her thoughts came fast and furious. Kylie was expecting her to teach her freestyle tomorrow morning…. She had a lifeguard shift from one to five…. James had promised to give her another surfing lesson…. Then there was the swim meet on Saturday. How could she just disappear without saying good-bye?

"I can't go tonight," Chelsea insisted. "I made plans for tomorrow already."

"We'll let everyone know," Summer said kindly, and handed her a large black duffel bag that had been hanging in the hallway closet. Chelsea had no clue how Summer knew it was there. "It's going to be okay, Chelsea. I promise."

Chelsea wasn't so sure of that. In fact, she wasn't sure anything in her life would be okay again.


	4. All in the Family

**Chapter Four: All in the Family**

The air at the Emerald Cove Academy outdoor pool was so oppressively hot and sticky that Arianna Schmidt started to worry she was going to wind up looking like a broiled lobster. "I'm caving!" she announced as a sweat bead rolled down her forehead and landed on the tip of her nose. "I don't want skin cancer! I'm putting on SPF 50!" Arianna reached under her lounge chair for the canvas tote that held her sunblock, but a slim, tanned hand swatted hers away.

"Arianna Rose!" Savannah Monroe surprised her by using her middle name. She stared at Arianna stonily, looking like one of those überserious cops on those TV shows her dad was obsessed with. "We swore we'd have a deep bronze by the time school started, and sunblock will ruin everything."

Savannah snatched Arianna's tote away and placed it safely on the other side of her lounge chair. "If you put anymore sunblock on those pale legs of yours, people are going to mistake you for an alpaca."

Arianna sat up carefully, covering up her chest to keep her favorite pink bikini top from sliding off and giving the entire Emerald Cove Country Club a peep show. "An alpaca?" she deadpanned, then started to giggle.

Savannah's long light brown hair was scattered over the top of her lounge chair like a crown. She sat back up and started to laugh, too. "So maybe I was up late last night and caught a teensy bit of an alpaca farm infomercial." She stopped laughing and looked at Arianna. "Tell anyone and die." Arianna pretended to zip her lips

One chair over from his sister, Arianna's brother Kendall scoffed, "No promises."

"What are you even dong here anyways. Don't you have some freshman girl to go stalk?"

"You know, Arianna, if you're going to be a smartass, first you have to be smart. Otherwise you're just an ass", the blonde replied with a small smirk of satisfaction on his face.

She smiled and laughed, giving him a playful shove. "You're such a dbag, you know that?"

Ever since Kendall was three and learned he'd be a big brother, Kendall had wished it was a boy. He always wanted to teach him how to play all kinds of sports and show him his 'skills' with the ladies. He wanted to watch _Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles_ and talk about how Donatello was obviously the best one. He wanted to have him on his team for the annual 'Schmidt Bowl', which was their family's thanksgiving tradition of flag football, and the winner always got a little trophy his mother made out of Styrofoam and gold paint and picked what pie they had for dessert. So when Kendall found out he was going to have a baby sister, he wasn't pleased in the slightest. But on December 3rd, 1996, when his little sister was handed to him in tiny pink blanket, none of that seemed to matter. So even though he didn't teach her any sports, he went to every dance recital to cheer her on, and was always the first one to give her a hug and tell her how amazing she was. Instead of teaching her how to get boys, he tried to teach her how to repel them and to this day it made him sick to his stomach to think about all the boys at school that drool over her. Rather than watch _Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles_,they watched _The Little Mermaid_, which even though he'd never admit it, was one of his favorite movies. And every year, he picked Arianna to be on his team, although it was painfully obvious she couldn't play to save her life. And when it came time to pick the pie, he always said cherry instead of apple, even though it was his favorite. At the end of the day, he'd bend over backwards for her. And she'd do the same for him.

Kendall looked up from his _Sports Illustrated: Swimsuit Edition_ magazine and grinned. "I know."

Arianna's phone went off in her bag. She threw her long, definitely not pasty legs over the side of her chair, leaned over Savannah, and snatched her Lilly Pulitzer tote. Cell phones weren't allowed on club grounds, not that anyone she knew actually abided by the rule.

* * *

**Dad's Cell: **Clear your schedules ASAP. We're going to have an emergency family meeting at Buona Terra restaurant at 5:30. You have to come, no excuses, peanut. I know some worldwide crisis must be happening, as it always seems to arise whenever we have one of theses meetings but even superman has to go to them once in a while. Tell Kendall the same. Love you, sweetheart. See you in a few.

* * *

Arianna ran her fingers in her hair and sighed. "Kendal, put down that 'work of art' and let's go. Dad says we're having an emergency family meeting". She frowned pursing her lips. "I wonder what's going on this time. Do you think something happened at the Academy? "

"I don't know. But whatever it is it has to beat the last time you called one because your straightener wasn't working." The older blonde teased as he started to pack up his things.

"How is that not an emergency!? I wasn't going to show up to Hayden Thompson's party with a lion's mane, that'd be social suicide!"

Kendall put his hands up, "Whatever you say. I'm gonna go bring the car around. I'll text you when I'm out front". With that he picked up his bag, while Arianna answered . "I'll be right there." With that he waved Savannah goodbye and left.

"But Arianna, you can't just leave. What about are plans for the mall today? I need you to help me pick out an outfit for the first day of school, everything I own is so last season!" Savannah griped.

"Sorry, Vanna, I have to go this time." Arianna tossed the lasted _People_, her phone, and her sunglasses in her bag. "You know how he gets when we're late. He'll send his goon of an assistant to come find me."

"I think Lucas is kind of sexy," Savannah said, momentarily forgetting what she was annoyed about. "In a buttoned-up, anal kind of way."

Arianna gave her a look, "He's almost thirty. And you have a boyfriend."

Savannah shrugged. "I'm allowed to look."

"Gross." Arianna stifled a laugh. "I promise we'll hit the mall tomorrow, okay? I'll even get my mom to give me her platinum card. We can eat lunch at that sushi place you like."

Savannah grinned. "Now you're talking." She put her iPod buds in, closed her eyes, and laid back down, which is exactly what Arianna wished she could do. She could think of a zillion things she'd rather be doing than spending on of her last days of freedom in a family meeting.

* * *

A few minutes later, Arianna waited in the club's circular driveway. Her damp blonde hair was up in a high ponytail and she'd barely had enough time to put on a cute blue v-neck dress. She kept a few sundresses in her family's club locker for just this sort of emergency. There was no way in hell she'd go out anywhere in a beach cover up unless she was at the pool, or of course, the beach.

Soon enough Kendall pulled up to the curb in a red Audi convertible. Just seeing Kendall behind the wheel of the car made Arianna envious. She was fifteen but her parents wouldn't let her get a learner's permit until she turned sixteen. Hopefully, by that time, her dad would let her have the Audi and buy Kendall something new. "I'm sure Savannah was kicking and screaming about you having to leave," Kendall said.

"You stalk my Facebook page, don't you?" Arianna joked and slid into the front seat.

"Yes," he said solemnly, and adjusted the collar of his white polo shirt that Arianna hadn't remembered him changing into. "I get a printout of your conversations and your day's activities every morning sent to my dorm room."

She hit him in the arm.

"Top up or down?" Kendall asked before he put the car into drive. He didn't give Arianna time to answer. "I'm guessing top up. You probably don't wanna mess up your hair."

She grinned mischievously as she felt her still-wet hair. "I'm going to shock you and say- top down!"

"_Whoa!_New school year, new Arianna Schmidt." Kendall smiled. "What's next? Sneakers outside the gym?"

Arianna shook her head. "Never." What was the point of wearing sneakers if you weren't a jogger? Arianna didn't get it. She did, however, know what her hair would look like when she showed up to dinner with a wet head, in a public setting. She shook her hair free from the ponytail and prayed a ten minute drive with the top down would do the trick.

* * *

**Author's Note: I'm sorry that I haven't updated in a while but I've had a lot of things going on. I hope you liked this chapter, and I'll post the next one really soon. And thanks to all the people that have read this story, I love you guys so much. Xoxo~ AH.**


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